


Thank You

by ready_to_kick_some_ass



Series: The Holmes Brothers [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Mycroft Holmes, Post-Episode: s04e02 The Lying Detective, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 18:49:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11697726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ready_to_kick_some_ass/pseuds/ready_to_kick_some_ass
Summary: Sherlock snorts. He stands up abruptly and walks to the window. Turns his back to Mycroft, who suddenly wishes, he wouldn’t have said those last words.But it’s part of the pattern, that built up between them over the years.It’s difficult to escape this pattern, even when he wants to. Like now.





	Thank You

“So Doctor Watson will move in again?”

“Yes. He will.”

“With his daughter.”

“Rosie. Yes.”

Mycroft nods. He clears his throat and leans back in the armchair.  
“Good. At least there will be someone here to keep an eye on you again. Even I can’t be everywhere.”

Sherlock snorts. He stands up abruptly and walks to the window. Turns his back to Mycroft, who suddenly wishes, he wouldn’t have said those last words.  
But it’s part of the pattern, that built up between them over the years.  
It’s difficult to escape this pattern, even when he wants to. Like now.  
  
He worries about Sherlock.  
He can see that his brother is still withdrawing. Can see it in his red rimmed, tired eyes, his gray skin and his slightly shaking hands. He knows the signs too well.  
  
There’s a lot of anger too. Mycroft can’t believe that Sherlock did drugs again. So many drugs that he almost destroyed his body with it. Just for … Well, for John Watson. Business as usual, wasn’t it?  
The events revived a lot of old memories. 

Mycroft sighs.  
He looks at Sherlock’s back. Before he can really think about it, the words have already left his mouth.  
“How are you?”

Sherlock shrugs slightly. If he’s surprised by the question, he doesn’t show it.  
“I could be worse,” he says quietly. 

_Yes_ , Mycroft thinks wearily. _He could be worse. That’s true_.  
They’ve seen worse. Much worse. 

“Tell me, if you need more painkillers,” he says and stands up. He grabs his umbrella. “I will send Anthea …”

Sherlock doesn’t answer. He just stands there in front of the window and stares into the beginning sunset. 

Mycroft takes a last look at him and then makes his way to the door.

Suddenly Sherlock quietly says, “Thank you”

“What?” Mycroft makes in surprise. His hand, which was already reaching for the door knob, freezes in the air. 

“I never really said thank you,” Sherlock says and finally turns around to look at Mycroft. “For what you did in Serbia. For getting me out.” 

Mycroft swallows. __  
Where did this come from? Why now?  
He manages a thin smile. “Well. You’re at least moderately clever. Maybe you wouldn’t have needed me after all.”

“No. I would have died there,” Sherlock says seriously, and the words make Mycroft shiver slightly. 

Yes. Sherlock would have died there. And Mycroft doesn’t want to think about this scenario. Living in the past is not his style.   
  
For a moment, there’s silence between them. But this time, it’s not an uncomfortable silence.  
Sherlock breaks it eventually. “There are words one should say, before it’s too late,” he says quietly. Then he turns around, to the window again and adds, more briskly, “Now go. I bet there’s a war you have to prevent from happening.”

Mycroft’s smile widens. “Actually, yes. There is one.” He opens the door and makes a step forward. Then he stops again. He hesitates.  
Maybe it’s still too early for this.  
Maybe …  
_Screw it._  
  
“How about tea on Friday? There’s a place I know, where you can get the pastry you used to devour as a child,” he says, deliberately casually.  
He nearly holds his breath, as he waits for Sherlock’s answer. 

For a moment, Sherlock says nothing. He continues to stare outside the window, his hands folded behind his back. But then he shrugs and says, “Why not.”

Mycroft smiles. “Great. Goodbye, brother mine.”

“Goodbye, Mycroft.”

When Mycroft leaves the flat, he has the feeling that he at least made a tiny step out of their pattern. And so did Sherlock.  
And that’s a good thing, isn’t it?

**Author's Note:**

> Say hello on [Tumblr](http://currently-in-my-mind-palace.tumblr.com/) :)  
> Beta: [bakerstreet-irregular](http://bakerstreet-irregular.tumblr.com/)


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